What Would Happen?
by Lila2
Summary: Jean and Logan have an encounter and do a little soul searching.
1. He Sets Her Free

~ * ~   
Electricity, eye to eye  
Hey, don't I know you?  
I can't speak  
  
"What ya doin' Jeannie?" Logan whispered in her ear, his lips brushing softly against her skin. "Ain't it a little late to be workin' so hard?"  
  
"Logan!" Jean exclaimed, drawing a hand to her chest to calm her shaky nerves. "What are you doing? You scared me half to death!"  
  
"Thought you could use some company while you're burnin' the midnight oil."  
  
"I'm fine, but thank you. You don't need to stay with me."  
  
"I wanna stay with you."  
  
"Then make yourself useful. Hand me that vial."  
  
"Which one?" Logan asked, examining the rack of test tubes resting in glossy rows on the counter next to Jean's microscope.   
  
"The clear one with the saline."  
  
"They're all clear."  
  
"It's the-never mind, I'll get it myself," Jean said as she reached over and grabbed the vial, her fingers lightly brushing over his in the process. She nearly jumped at the contact, her entire body tingling from the affect of his skin touching hers. "Really, Logan; you can go to bed," she assured him. "I'm sure you have a long day tomorrow and need your rest."  
  
"So I can dream about you? I'd rather have the real thing."  
  
"Logan. . .you shouldn't talk like that."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"You know why. I'm with Scott and. . ." she trailed off.  
  
"What? He doesn't want me moving in on 'his girl'? I just wanna keep you company, Jean."  
  
"Then be quiet. I need to concentrate on this."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"A tissue sample. It's yours actually; we're still trying to figure out how your body can survive with a metal skeleton."  
  
"Just good genes I guess."  
  
"There's a scientific explanation; I just need to find it," Jean argued, her brow furrowing as she studied the slide. "Just stay silent and I'll get this done faster."  
  
"As long as I can look at that pretty face of yours, I'll be as quiet as a mouse."  
  
Jean shot him a smile and turned back to her microscope, intent on finding the secret of Logan's powers.  
  
~ * ~  
Stripped my senses  
On the spot  
I've never been defenseless  
I can't even make sense of this  
You speak and I don't hear a word  
  
Two hours later Jean realized she was getting nowhere and was just wasting precious time she'd rather spend sleeping. Okay, she was lying; yeah, sleep would be nice, but watching Logan wasn't so bad either. He'd kept his promise and been "as quiet as a mouse," but he'd been a constant distraction since he'd walked in her laboratory door. She hadn't been able to take her eyes off him from the minute he'd walked into the room: the way his muscles rippled under his skin every time he moved; the way his jeans clung oh-so-right to his hips, the way his hair kept falling forward over his forehead and she had force herself not to brush it back. She'd never been like this before over a guy; so distracted and obsessed-but turned on at the same time. All she wanted to do was rip his clothes off; longed to imitate a scene from one of those cheesy soap operas Rogue loved so much, fling all the supplies off her lab table and make love to him right then and there. What was wrong with her? She already had a boyfriend, no a husband; someone who made her feel loved and supported and stable. It was okay to look right? As long as she didn't touch. But she wanted to do more than look; she wanted to bite and kiss and caress and. . . "Stop," she told herself. "Focus. You have a job to do and it needs to get done," she continued, rubbing her tired eyes with one hand and reaching for her microscope with the other.  
  
"Red?" Logan asked. "Red, you there?"  
  
"Huh?" Jean responded, having no idea what he was talking about.  
  
"Somethin' botherin' you Red?" Logan questioned. "I've been tryin' to get your attention for the last five minutes, but you've been off in another world. Is somethin' wrong?"  
  
"Why do you say that?" Jean responded, slipping another slide onto the microscope.  
  
"Don't know. I can just. . .sense it on you. Wanna talk about it?"  
  
"Not particularly. There's nothing wrong."  
  
"I know that's not true."  
  
"Are you accusing me of lying?"  
  
"I'm accusing you of evading the question. Now fess up; what's got you all worried?"  
  
"That I want to jump your bones, but I can't because my husband would kill me," she thought to herself. "It's nothing," she said instead. "I'm just a little frustrated with Scott."  
  
"What did the Boy Scout do this time?"  
  
Jean sighed, pushing the microscope away for the final time, knowing she wasn't going to get anything accomplished tonight, not with Logan so close by.  
  
"It's not what he did, it's more like what he didn't do. . .You wouldn't really understand."  
  
"Try me."  
  
"Logan, no offense, but you've never been married."  
  
"No, I've never been married, but that doesn't mean I don't understand relationships."  
  
Jean sat down on the stool across from Logan, kicking off her high heels as she leaned back. He took one of her feet and put it in his lap, his fingers slowly kneading the tension out of her arch.  
  
"God, that feels wonderful," Jean gasped, throwing her head back in surrender. Reaching up she pulled the pins out of her hair, letting her glorious mane of red curls tumble halfway down her back.   
  
She was gorgeous, unbelievably gorgeous-he couldn't take his eyes off her; off her creamy skin and lush curves; the way her eyes closed in surrender as he massaged her foot. She was too good for him, and too smart to stay with Scott. But no matter the differences between them, he needed her; needed her soothe away the nightmares that haunted him; needed her to hold him at night when he was tired or scared or losing his grip on reality; needed her to remind him that even someone as wild as him had a heart underneath the pain. And he knew she needed him too; needed him to understand her, not to judge her, to let her be who she wanted to be, not who others thought she was. And right now she needed him to give her advice on how to fix her relationship with the love of her life. "So," he started. "What's Scott done that has you in such a bother?"  
  
"He doesn't listen, Logan. Not like you do. He just nods and smiles and grunts every now and then. I mean, I know he hears what I'm saying, but I don't think he's listening to what I'm saying. When I'm with him. . .I feel like I'm pretending to be someone I'm not. To him I'm still the loyal, noble, good Jean Grey I was at sixteen. He doesn't see that I'm not that naïve girl anymore; I'm a woman now, and I've changed."  
  
"Have you talked to him about this?"  
  
"Of course I have; or at least I've tried to. But he's not hearing what I'm trying to tell him. I'm not fragile; I don't need him to save me. I'm a big girl now and I can take care of myself, on my own; and when I need help I'm more than happy to ask for it. But he doesn't see that; all he sees is this little girl who needs to be rescued all the time. But I can control my powers, control the voices in my head; I don't need him to fight my battles for me anymore."  
  
"So why do you stay with him, if he isn't there for you?" he asked, pausing for a moment to ask his question.  
  
"He-Logan don't stop. That feels too good," she said and he picked her foot back up and continued the massage. "And the answer to your question is: I stay with him because I love him."  
  
"Do you?"  
  
"Do I what?"  
  
"Love Scott."  
  
"Of course I do! I wouldn't have married him if I didn't!"  
  
Logan shook his head, "Okay, let me rephrase: are you in love with Scott?"  
  
Jean paused for a minute, contemplating his question, "I don't know," she finally responded. "It's all so confusing; sometimes I wonder if I'm in love with him, or in love with the idea of loving him. He's been a part of my life for so long, I can't imagine life without him. But you're right; I don't know if I love him out of passion and longing, or because it's a habit."  
  
"I know a way to find out."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Kiss me. Kiss me and see if it's love you feel for him, or loyalty. See if it's him you really want-or someone else."  
  
~ * ~  
What would happen if we kissed  
Would your tongue slip past my lips  
Would you run away, would you stay  
Or would I melt into you  
Mouth to mouth, lust to lust  
Spontaneously combust  
  
"I dare you to kiss me." Logan repeated, scooting a bit closer to her.  
  
"What?!" Jean gasped.  
  
"You heard me. I dare you to kiss me."  
  
"Logan, you know Scott and I are married-."  
  
"This isn't about Scott. It's about you and me."  
  
"That would be adultery, and I'm not about to be unfaithful to my husband."  
  
"You're already unfaithful in your mind. Why not go through with what you've been wanting so bad. It's just one kiss, nothing more. To see if all those fantasies of yours have some basis in reality."  
  
"How. . . how. . .why would you think I'm fantasizing about you?" she finally asked.  
  
"You think I can't see your eyes follow my every move? The jealousy every time I have a date or meet someone new? I see it 'cause it's the same way I see you. Every time you smile at Scott or look at him with those big eyes of yours, it's like a stab to the heart. And I know you know what I'm talking about 'cause I see the same reaction in you."  
  
Jean stared at him for a moment, her eyes taking in the man in front of her. He was so unique, so different than Scott; he was honest with her, told her exactly how he felt-she knew where she stood with him. Scott, well Scott preferred to work things out on his own; he never troubled her with his problems, never told her how he really felt about anything. Yeah, she knew he loved her, but she'd never really known why.   
  
"Okay," she relented. "One kiss. Just to see where we stand. And then I'm going to bed."  
  
"You've got a deal," he smiled, her resolve weakening as that smile made her ache in places she forgot she still possessed.   
  
He moved even closer to her, so close her breasts rubbed against his chest and she could feel his warm breath against her cheek. "You ready?" he whispered.  
  
"Whenever you are," she responded, her voice shaky with emotion. Slowly, so slowly it was almost torturous, his lips met hers and she felt like sparks like she'd never felt before. His tongue slid into her mouth, dancing with her own, his arms wrapping around her slender figure and caressing the flesh of her back. He tasted her sweetness and reveled in the feeling of holding her, kissing her, being with her-because it was a feeling he wasn't sure he'd ever know again.   
  
~ * ~  
The room is spinning out of control  
Act like you didn't notice  
Brushed my hand   
  
She was first to break the kiss, pushing out of his arms and stepping back, rubbing her hand furiously across her mouth. She was still disheveled and out of sort, but together enough to know what she'd done was wrong. "There," she spat out. "We kissed, and surprise, surprise, nothing's changed. I'm still married to Scott and you're still lusting after something you can't have."  
  
"Something I can't have?" he questioned, his eyes sparkling. "I wouldn't go that far," he added, lightly running his fingers across the back of her hand.   
  
She snatched her hand away as if she'd been burned, rubbing it against the cloth of her shirt.. "Yes, Logan," she hissed. "I'm something you can't have. I took your dare, I kissed you. . .but my decision is final. I'm staying with Scott."  
  
"You know that wasn't what this was about."  
  
"So what was about it about? Did you really think I would kiss you and realize I love you, not Scott? That I would forsake the vows I made in front of God and all the people I love and-."  
  
"Jean!" Logan interrupted. "Calm down." He took a step closer, gently wrapping his arms around and pulling her against his chest. Capturing her chin in his hand, he tenderly raised face so their eyes met, two tear-filled pools of blue-green meeting his own.   
  
"Why are you doing this to me, Logan?"  
  
"Doin' what?"  
  
"Making me feel things I can't feel; making me want things I can't have. . ."  
  
"So you do want me."  
  
"You know I do. I can't look at you without wanting to rip your clothes off. But it's not just that. You. . .understand me. I feel safe with you. Safe. . . but alive. But none of that matters; I'm married to someone else, and I'm staying true to my vows."  
  
"But you don't want to."  
  
"It's what I should do."  
  
"You don't always have to do what you're supposed to do. Sometimes you need to do what feels right."  
  
"This feels right. . .but it's so wrong."  
  
"So be a bad girl for once, Jeannie. Give in and let go."  
  
And she did, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him long and hard and passionately. He smiled against the seam of her lips, pulling her closer and enjoying the depths of her mouth, the softness of her hair, the silkiness of her skin. He knew he was losing himself in her, but he just didn't care.  
  
~ * ~  
Forbidden fruit  
Ring on my finger  
You're such a moral, moral man  
You throw it away, no question  
Will I pretend I'm innocent  
  
It was wrong and they both knew it, but that didn't stop them from going farther. Soon he found himself in his bed in his bedroom with Jean straddling him, her tongue tracing a slow pattern over his bare chest. They were both nearly naked, their clothes lying in scattered piles throughout the room. He looked up at her, always freshly amazed by her beauty: her flushed, translucent skin; her passion clouded sea-green eyes; her lush curves and toned limbs. With her flame red hair falling across her bare breasts, she looked like some kind of mythological goddess using her powers of seduction to get him right where she wanted him. As she reached up to brush a lock of hair off her face, her diamond ring caught in the light, twinkling and sparkling and shooting prisms through the dimness. The ring was like a bucket of cold water; the enormity of what he was doing suddenly dawned: he was committing adultery. Well, he wasn't, but Jean: good, honest, loyal Jean was cheating on a man she'd been with for the majority of her life.  
  
"Jeannie," he whispered brokenly. "Jeannie, we need to. . ." he started, moaning when her fingers delved into the thin layer of cotton covering his anatomy. "Jeannie" he started again, capturing her exploring hands in his own. "We need to stop."  
  
"Why?" she asked seductively, her tongue tracing the ridged planes of his abdomen. "We're just getting started."  
  
"'Cause this is wrong; I was wrong. You're married-and you're going to regret this in the morning," he gasped as her fingers once again disappeared into the little clothing that separated them.   
  
"No," Jean whispered. "You were right, so right. I'm not doing this to hurt Scott; it's not a wake up call that I'm unhappy. I'm doing this because it's what I want to do. I want to be with you Logan; I want to feel how you make me feel. I want to feel wanted. . .needed. . .alive. Please, make me feel alive?"  
  
How could he refuse her? He'd been in love with since the minute he'd laid eyes on her all those years ago. He'd watched her grow and mature and love someone else; stood by while she married Scott and tore his heart in two. But he'd also watched the steady break down of their marriage; seen Scott withdraw into himself, push Jean away, ignore the fact that she was changing into someone else. Scott didn't appreciate Jean's intelligence or sense of humor or loving heart; all he saw was the beauty he'd had on his arm since he was sixteen, the trophy he wasn't ready to let go of. But Logan-he loved Jean, wanted to spend the rest of his life loving her and treasuring her and cherishing her; and he sure as hell wasn't about to pass up the chance to truly be with her.  
  
"Jeannie, are you sure?" he asked a final time.   
  
"Positive. Just kiss me Logan, kiss me and set me free."  
  
He did more than kiss her that night; he touched and caressed and made her feel like she'd never felt before. Foreplay was non-existent to Scott, but Logan-the way he seemed to worship her body made her feel like some kind of sacred temple. She writhed in his arms, whimpering softly as his tongue delved into her navel before traveling lower. She was moaning loudly now, her fingers clutching his hair and her head tossing from side to side. He kissed her once more before entering her, his tongue wrapping itself around hers as she adjusted to him. Then he began to move, slowly at first, but faster and faster until she forgot who she was and that she had a husband sleeping alone tonight in her bed. She came apart in his arms, her cries and moans equaling his groans; and just as she reached passion's peak she could have sworn she heard him whisper, "I love you, Jean" before collapsed in her arms.   
  
~ * ~  
I struggle with myself again  
Quickly the walls are crumbling  
Don't know if I can turn away  
  
They lay there together, neither of them able to move; she lay on top of him, one of his arms wrapped around her and her head pillowed on his chest.  
  
"I heard you say you love me," she accused, raising her eyes to meet his own. "Is that true?"  
  
"You know it is," he said after a moment, studying her face for any sign of her feelings for him.   
  
"It can't be this way."  
  
"What way?"  
  
"The two of us. . .a couple. . . an affair. This was a one time thing. You know, no strings, no emotions involved."   
  
"Can you honestly say you don't have feelings for me?"  
  
"Not the kind you want."  
  
"Look who's lying now."  
  
"Logan-."  
  
"Shh," he whispered, pressing a finger to her lips. "I'm not asking you to leave Scott or stop loving him. I just want you to admit you love me too-in the way I want you to."  
  
Jean struggled to rise, but Logan caught her in his arms, pulling her back down. "Oh, no you don't," he growled. "You can't run, Jeannie. Not when I'm gonna be waitin' around every turn to catch you."  
  
Jean sighed in surrender, "I love you, Logan. I admit it, I do. But that doesn't change anything. I still love Scott, and I'm still staying with him."  
  
"I knew you would. But I wanna have you too."  
  
"An affair?"  
  
"Whatever I can get. I'm not a guy to grovel, but I'd take anything if it means being close to you."  
  
"I can't. . ."  
  
"Can't what?"  
  
"I can't stay away. I want to; I want to push you out of my mind and pretend us-this doesn't exist, but I can't. Not when deep down in my heart I know I want to be with you."  
  
"Then stay, let us be whatever it is we are. Don't fight what we have, 'cause you're not going to win in the end."  
  
She looked at him, her tear-filled eyes pools of shimmering sea green, "This is it," she said tearfully. "One last kiss before I go back to Scott." Turning slightly she kissed him feather light, barely brushing his lips with her own. Tightening his grip on her he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss, holding onto her for dear life. She pulled away and rose in all her glory to find her clothes and dress, awkwardly knotting her shirt at the waist because he'd ripped the buttons off in his haste to get her naked.   
  
"Good bye, Logan," she whispered, brushing away the tears rolling down her cheeks. "Thank you for tonight; I'll never forget it." she added softly, shooting him a sad smile before walking out the door.   
  
He rolled over, hugging a pillow to his chest in place of his lost love. Yeah, she said this was it, but he knew she'd be back for more. They weren't over, not by a long shot; not if he bet his very life on it.  
  
~ * ~  
Author's Note:  
Couple things: One, this story fits into the Movieverse, but the story arcs that are going to follow fit better into the Comic so I'm keeping it there. But, I am deleting Wolverine's entire Japanese past; think of him as he was characterized in the film. Second, this is my first song fic, and I'm still not sure I'm doing it right. Please, please, please review! Let me know if this is okay! Also, this song is one of my favorites, "What Would Happen" by Meredith Brooks; she wrote it, I'm just borrowing it. Third, I'm not sure if Jean and Logan are going to stay together, or if she'll end up with Scott. Let me know what you think. Anyway, enjoy! 


	2. Payback's a Bitch

Author's Note:  
I know it's kind of short, but this is setting up the greater arc of the story. In terms of the time frame, think of this as current time. But, the characters are a mix of Movieverse and Comicverse: Logan is strictly movie and so is Jean's profession, but the rest are basically comic. Also, Remy and Rogue are together and have a child; this will be developed further in a later story, but think of that incident in the cave in Uncanny #350.  
  
~ * ~  
"Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up."- James Baldwin  
  
~ * ~  
It was wrong and she knew it. But that didn't stop her from doing it anyway. She was like a moth to his flame, desiring what she knew would be her downfall, but unable to stay away. It was the same every time. She'd slip into his room like some kind of enraged angel with flaming curls and blazing eyes. "This is the last time," she'd say as she tore at his clothes and pushed him on the bed. "It's wrong; we can't keep doing this to Scott," she'd whisper as her fingers caressed his body and grasped his hardness. "Once more and I'm gone," she'd gasp as she slid down the length of him, her head thrown back in surrender, her hips bucking in rhythm with his. Then she'd moan and quiver and explode around him, her body collapsing in his arms.   
  
If it was just sex she could have stopped. Unbelievable, mind-blowing, head-banging sex was something she could live without. She tried to tell herself that it was just a physical thing--an affair. But she knew this was something more. She was a different person with Logan; more open, self-assured, free. It wasn't just about sex with them. They'd talk afterwards, well she'd talk afterwards; discuss her hopes and dreams while Logan listened in content silence. She told him things that she never told Scott, felt safer confiding in him than she had in any of her friends or family. Scott was an amazing man and she knew it; but no matter how hard he tried, how much of himself he gave her it wasn't enough. She didn't need him the way she needed Logan.  
  
"Don't go," he whispered as she got up to dress and return to her husband.   
  
"You know I can't stay."  
  
"Just for a little while longer?"  
  
"Logan. . .Scott will be looking for me."  
  
"Then tell him you were working late again. I have something to tell ya."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Come here and you'll see."  
  
She dropped her torn dress and slipped back under the covers, rubbing her silken curves against his hard muscles. "What is it you want, big boy?" she cooed, her tongue stroking its way down his neck.   
  
"I wanna know how you feel."  
  
"You know how I feel."  
  
"Do, I don't. Jean, I need the truth. Where do I stand with you?"  
  
She stopped her ministrations and pulled herself into a sitting position, hugging her knees to her chest in a protective manner. "I don't know."  
  
"Yes, you do."  
  
"Logan, it's too confusing. I love both of you, but I can't have you both. What we're doing. . . it's wrong."  
  
"That's what you always say."  
  
"It's the truth. I'm having an affair, cheating on my husband."  
  
"So? This has been going on for months, Jeannie. It's time you 'fess up and tell me how ya really feel. How can this be wrong when it feels so right?" he asked, his fingers tracing a slow pattern down her back.  
  
"It just is," she gasped, surrendering to his wandering hands and gentle mouth. "I-."  
  
"You what?"  
  
"I need you," she whispered as she dragged his head down to hers. "I'll always need you, no matter what happens."   
  
He lost himself in her, in the heat and passion and excitement of their encounter. But when it was over she'd gather her clothes, shower in the communal bathroom down the hall, and slide into her marriage bed, kissing Scott goodnight and whispering something about how she was up late working again. And he'd fall asleep in the bed he'd loved her in, breathing in her scent and wishing she was really there next to him.  
  
~ * ~  
"Morning, babe," Scott whispered in her ear the next morning as he sat down next to her to eat breakfast. "Everything okay in the lab?"  
  
"Fine," she answered, lowering her eyes so she didn't have to see Logan smirking at her from across the table. "I'm having a little trouble interpreting the latest data, but its nothing that a little time can't handle."  
  
"I just don't want you losing sleep over this. You've been working too many late nights as it is."  
  
"It's fine, Scott--really it is," she said, catching his hand in her own. "But I love how you worry about me," she added, dropping a kiss on his cheek.  
  
"It's my job," he said in response. "I love you."  
  
"I love you, too," she whispered, pressing her lips lightly to his.  
  
"Ewww," Jean-Luc, Rogue and Remy's three-year-old son interrupted. "Kissy-kissy is gross!"  
  
Jean laughed against Scott's mouth and reluctantly drew away, sneaking a glance at Logan in the process. His face was expressionless, but his eyes said it all. They were furious: two glaring pools of deep-blue scorching into her own. Without a word he pushed his chair back so hard it nearly fell over and stormed out of the room, his footsteps echoing harshly down the hall.  
  
"Wonder what's bothering him?" Scott questioned as he reached for another muffin.  
  
"Who knows?" Jean answered nervously. "Probably didn't sleep well."  
  
"Or maybe it's sometin' else?" Remy suggested, catching Jean's eye. "Who really knows wat plagues a man' heart?"  
  
"I doubt Logan's that sentimental," Scott said, his eyes fixated on the muffin he was buttering. "Ororo," he said, changing the subject. "What's the status of the new Friends of Humanity base we found on 10th Street?"  
  
While Ororo and Scott discussed in length the new FOD hang out they'd discovered in New York City, Jean meticulously picked apart her muffin grain by grain. The entire time she could feel Remy eyes boring into her: questioning her, judging her. She knew he knew--and she just prayed that he wouldn't reveal the truth and destroy them all.  
  
~ * ~  
"Jean," Remy said as he walked into her lab. "We need to talk."  
  
"What's up, Remy?" Jean asked as cheerfully as she could manage.   
  
"I 'tink you know. Don' play games wit me, Jean"  
  
"What is it you think I'm doing?"  
  
"You're sleepin' wit Logan. An' don't deny it 'cause I know you are."  
  
Jean paused for a moment, the breath rushing out of her. "How did you find out?"  
  
"I can sense it. Logan may have dat sense of smell, but I have perception."  
  
"Remy, this is not something I'm discussing with you."  
  
"'Den you can discuss it wit' Scott. Da choice is up to you."  
  
She stared at him for a minute. "Okay, we'll talk. What do you want to know?"  
  
"How long has dis been goin' on?"  
  
"Why do you care?"  
  
"'Cause dis involve the entire team. Scott's da leader; an if you screw him over, he screws all of us over."  
  
"Scott's the smartest, most loyal, strongest person I know. He would never put the team in danger."  
  
"Not on purpose, no. But dat boy will be distract'd. And dat's when mistakes happen."  
  
"How dare you accuse me of trying to hurt the team. I'm-."  
  
"You what? Havin' da best sex o' your life? Dat's great, Jean. But when you put my family in danger 'cause you're getting off, dat's a problem."  
  
"I'm not trying to hurt anyone-."  
  
"I know you not. We all do. But 'tink about what you doin', Jean. An' how it gonna affect us all. I 'tink you get what I'm sayin'. 'Tink about it," he added as he left the room, leaving a breathless, devastated Jean behind.  
  
~ * ~  
"They know," Jean told Logan once she'd found him, beating the crap out of a punching bag in the school gym. "You don't look particularly surprised."  
  
"I'm not," he said, nailing a mean right-hook against the side of the bag.   
  
"Why?"  
  
"Don't know, Jeannie?" he said sarcastically. "Could it be those hickey's you insist I give you on the tops of your breasts? Or the nail marks on my back? Or that I always smell like Chanel #5? It's pretty damn obvious what we've been up to."  
  
"Why didn't you say something?"  
  
"And' risk losin' you? No way."  
  
"So you let me make a fool of myself in front of everyone I know and love."  
  
"You did that all by yourself."  
  
"You bastard," Jean hissed, her hand swinging towards his cheek. "I don't know what I ever saw in you."  
  
He caught her wrist effortlessly. "You know what you saw in me. You can be honest with me. You don't have to be perfect, pristine Jean Grey-Summers. You can just be Jeannie, with her tangled curls and wild mouth and hands that know how to drive me crazy. I'd rather have you angry, than apathetic. At least I know this is the real you."  
  
"Do they all know?" she asked, not wanting to talk about the things that drew her to Logan.  
  
"Only Remy. . .and probably Rogue. But they won't say anything."  
  
"He came to see me today. He told me to break things off."  
  
"Are you going to listen?"  
  
"It all makes sense. He's right about us--we're wrong, we're all wrong."  
  
"You always say that."  
  
"But it's true. If Scott ever found out. . .the Dream would die. He couldn't go on, not knowing the truth. And we need him for the Dream to come true."  
  
"Screw the Dream. This is about you, what you want."  
  
"That's why I'm here, Logan. For the Dream; so that one day the world will be a peaceful place. I can't hurt everyone around me for great sex."  
  
"You know it's more than that."  
  
"I can't risk it. This is good-bye, Logan. Good bye for good."  
  
He felt her kiss his cheek on last time, smelled her perfume as she brushed by, but inside he was numb. She meant it this time when she said she was leaving. She was really gone, and he didn't know what he was going to do without her.  
  
~ * ~  
Jean stared at the ticking hands of her clock, her entire body frozen with fear. It had been two weeks since she'd ended her affair with Logan, and she'd finally reached her day of reckoning. The egg timer she'd stolen from the kitchen rang with a loud "ding," and her eyes reluctantly flew to the white, plastic stick lying on her bathroom counter. A bright pink plus sign winked up at her, and she slumped to the floor in a dead faint.  



	3. Girl Talk

Author's Note:  
Okay, this chapter ended up being another song fic, and because I'm a big dork I used the song "With Arms Wide Open" by Creed. I'm not really a Creed fan and I know the song is really overused, but I think it accurately portrays the way new parents feel upon the discovery of a pregnancy. Just disregard the fact that the song is from a male perspective and it will all make sense. Please, please, please review. I really do use the comments you make in crafting and shaping my story. Enjoy!  
  
  
~ * ~  
Well I just heard the news today  
It seems my life is going to change  
I closed my eyes, begin to pray  
Then tears of joy stream down my face  
With arms wide open  
Under the sunlight  
Welcome to this place  
I'll show you everything  
With arms wide open  
  
Jean stared at her naked body in the mirror, examining every inch of her fair skin. Luckily, she looked the same; her breasts were a little larger and her face a tiny bit fuller, but there was still no noticeable swelling where her child was growing inside her. She let out a sigh of relief, reassured that her pregnancy was still unrecognizable to everyone but herself.   
  
"What am I going to do?" Jean said out loud, collapsing on her bed. It had been two months since her discovery, and she still had no idea how to handle it. Her life was like a soap opera: a happy marriage interrupted by a brooding loner; a passionate affair to break the monotony of holy matrimony; an unplanned pregnancy with questionable paternity. She need to talk to someone about this, needed to vent and analyze and figure out a way solution to the mess she'd gotten herself into.  
  
~ * ~  
Well I don't know if I'm ready  
To be the man I have to be  
I'll take a breath, take her by my side  
We stand in awe, we've created life  
  
There was one major problem: she didn't know whom to turn to. Ororo was her best friend, but she was also Scott's confidant; she didn't know how to lie if her life depended on it. There was Betsey, with her experience and sexual knowledge, but Betsey was also an insufferable bitch who'd be more than happy to broadcast the great Jean Grey's fall from grace; there was always Emma Frost, but no one with half a brain told the White Queen her deepest secrets, not if she wanted to keep her sanity intact. That only left Rogue; beautiful, naïve, stubborn Rogue. She found Rogue in her garden, a southern beauty sitting amongst a million flowers, carefully trimming her rose bushes. She wasn't close to Rogue; she never had been. But Rogue, with her stable marriage and three-year-old son seemed like her best shot at some good advice. It was ironic; Rogue, with her untouchable skin and hardened heart was now the most normal person in the school. A genetic mutation as a result of pregnancy had helped her control her powers; the love of a determined man had melted her frozen emotions; and now Rogue was easily the happiest person Jean knew.  
  
"Rogue, can I talk to you?" Jean whispered softly, her eyes downcast. "It's really important."  
  
Rogue glanced up, pushing up the brim of her straw hat so she could see her visitor. Shielding her eyes from the blistering summer sun, she smiled warmly at her guest. "Sure," Rogue responded in her deep southern drawl. "As long as ya willin' to work, we can talk."  
  
"Of course," Jean agreed, pulling on a pair of work gloves and attacking the dandelions poking their golden heads through the fresh soil.   
  
"What's on ya mind, sugah?" Rogue asked. "It's too nice a day ta be upset," she added, gesturing towards the cloudless sky and brilliant sun.  
  
"It's complicated. I. . . I don't know how to explain."  
  
"Start at the beginnin'. That usually works."  
  
"You know. . .about me and Logan."  
  
Rogue didn't skip a beat, carefully pruning excess leaves from her roses. "Remy told me. It's a mean thing ya doin', Jean."  
  
"I'm pregnant."  
  
Rogue sucked in a breath, her mind no longer on her roses, but on the woman beside her. "Are ya sure?"  
  
"Positive. I took two home pregnancy tests and performed a blood test. All three were positive."  
  
"Have ya told Scott?"  
  
"I. . .I can't."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Jean stopped weeding as the tears once again pooled in her eyes. She mentally cursed herself for being so pathetic; she'd cried more in the last two months than the rest of her life combined.   
  
"Jean?"  
  
Jean stared at the flowers, at their simplicity and beauty. Why couldn't her life be like that? Why did she have to be stupid, weak? Why did she have to give in to something she knew was wrong? Why had she let herself get caught? "I can't tell Scott," she finally answered. "Because I'm not sure he's the father."  
  
Rogue didn't say anything for a long time. "What are ya goin' ta do?"  
  
"I don't know. Rogue. . . that's why I wanted to talk to you."  
  
"Me? How can Ah help?"  
  
"You're married with a child. You've been through this before. I don't know what to do, if I want to keep this child or let it go-."  
  
"Ya mean an abortion?"  
  
"Yes, an abortion. I don't see how it's fair that I raise a child whose paternity I'm unsure--of especially if I'm not sure I even deserve this child. I'm so irresponsible--."  
  
"No ya not."  
  
"Yes, I am. I wouldn't be in this position if I were responsible. But no, I got so wrapped up in the passion and how good it felt that I forgot to be careful. And now I'm paying for it."  
  
"A baby is a blessin', Jean. Ya think Ah wanted Jean-Luc when Ah first found out Ah was havin' him? I was terrified out of mah mind."  
  
"But you love him now. I see you with him; he's your world."  
  
"Now he is. But when Ah first discovered Ah was pregnant, the last thing Ah wanted was a baby. Ah was twenty-two, alone, and unable ta control mah powers. Ah was so afraid Ah'd kill my baby if Ah touched him."  
  
"So what changed?"  
  
"Ah fell in love with the life grown' inside me. Each day, as mah belly would get bigga and Ah'd feel him kick more and more, Ah couldn't imagine mah life without him. Ah was angry and tired and lonely, but Ah knew Ah loved my baby, and Ah really think that's what pulled me through. When Ah abandoned Remy--Ah wanted ta die; he was the only person who'd ever really loved me, and Ah left him ta die. Ah thought about killin' myself a lot-an Ah firmly believe that if it wasn't for my baby, Ah would have gone through with it. It didn't seem fair ta give up on mah life, not when Ah had someone else depending on me like that. Ah could die, not when Ah had this little boy, this part of Remy ta love."  
  
"And now you have Remy and your baby."  
  
"And another one on the way," Rogue added, gently rubbing her six-months-pregnant stomach. "It will all work out in tha end. Look at me, Jean. Ah used ta be an untouchable bitch with a big stick up my ass, but now Ah'm happier than Ah've ever been. Ah have a man who loves me, a healthy, happy child. If mah life could turn out this way, yours will to."  
  
"No it won't; nothing good ever happens to me," Jean disagreed. "Rogue, what do I do about this baby's father? It's not an issue of love; I already know I love my baby. But how do I raise this child not knowing whose blood is running through his veins?"  
  
Rogue thought for a minute, twirling an auburn curl around her finger as she contemplated. "Are ya sure ya don't know the father?"  
  
"I'm positive. I'd like to think it's Scott, but I have a nagging feeling it's Logan."  
  
"But ya don't know for sure?"  
  
"No. . .I mean, time wise it could be either one of them; I've never given Scott any reason to think I was being unfaithful. But at the same time I was more wild, more uninhibited with Logan. It could just as easily be him."  
  
"Jean?" Rogue asked softly. "What if it is Logan? Could Scott raise another man's child?"  
  
Jean slowly picked the flowers off a daisy, unsure of how to answer the question. "I don't know. I'd like to say he would, but you know what kind of man he is; honor and honesty are so important to him. I don't think he'd ever really get over this; on the surface he might love this child, but I don't know if he'd ever think of it as his own. And he'd never forgive me, not ever. If he did for some reason accept my child, he would never feel the same about me again."  
  
"Ah can't say Ah'd blame him."  
  
"I wouldn't either. Rogue?"  
  
"Yeah, sugah?"  
  
"How did you get Remy to forgive you? After you left him in Antarctica?"  
  
It was Rogue's turn to be silent as the darkest, cruelest choice of her life was revisited. "Ah'm never really sure. Sometimes Ah think it's because he loves me, other times Ah think it's because of Jean-Luc. Ah don't really know, but Ah don't really care. As long as Ah have him with me, Ah don't care why."  
  
"I wish I could say the same about Scott. But I'm still questioning if I want to be with him."  
  
"He's ya husband."  
  
"I know. But I sometimes wonder why I married him. I mean, do I love him or is just a habit? I've been with him since I was sixteen; maybe I don't know what it's like to live without Scott and I'm too afraid to try."  
  
"What does Logan think?"  
  
"Has he discussed this with you?"  
  
"No. . . but Ah sure ya have."  
  
"That's the problem: it's not just sex with us. I can tell him everything, things I can't tell Scott."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Like that I don't want to be an X-Woman for the rest of my life. Sometime in the near future I want to settle down, have a bunch of kids, and start a medical practice. That doesn't mean I don't want to continue to fight for mutant causes and equal rights, but playing a superhero gets old; I can't see myself saving the world for the rest of my life."  
  
"An Scott disagrees?"  
  
"Scott wants to wear spandex until he's too old to squeeze himself into his uniform. He can't see a life without missions and fighting and powers. This baby was a wake-up call to me about the problems in our marriage; we don't want the same things anymore. And I don't know how we can live together if we can't agree on how to spend the rest of our lives."  
  
"An Logan?" Rogue gently prodded.  
  
"Logan," Jean sighed. "Logan wants what I want. He hates the violence, the really does. But it's a so much a part of him that he can't separate himself from the pain and hurt of his past. He doesn't know how to live a life without violence-."  
  
"Like when he threatens ta rip open ma husband's gut with those claws of his every time he loses a hand of poker?"  
  
"Yes; it's a natural defense mechanism for him: fight pain with pain. But with me he's different; I see this beautiful, tender side of him. He writes me poetry, you know. He doesn't think I know, but I hear him reading it to me when he thinks I'm asleep. It took me months to break down his walls, but once I got inside I never want to leave. I know he'll love this baby, but I also know he can live without it. I'm not sure Scott can live with the knowledge that he's raising his greatest rival's child."  
  
"So ya willin' to deny Logan his child?"  
  
"I don't think I have a choice, not if I want to save my marriage."  
  
"Why are ya workin' so hard on this marriage? Tha way ya describe it--it doesn't sound like ya really want to fix it."  
  
Jean sighed. "I don't know what I want anymore. I love Scott, I really do. But sometimes love isn't enough. Maybe we rushed into this, got married because it was what was expected of us, not what we really wanted."  
  
"Ah can't tell ya what ta do."  
  
"I know you can't. But could you give me some advice: what would you do in my shoes?  
  
Rogue stared at her in disbelief. "Ya serious?"  
  
"Very."  
  
"Ah can't answer that question. Ah've never been in that situation. When Ah got pregnant, it was under totally different circumstances."  
  
"But if you were in my situation, what would you do?"  
  
"Ah can't imagine life without mah baby. Once Hank laid mah little boy in mah arms, Ah knew Ah could never let him go."  
  
"So you think I should keep the baby?"  
  
"Ah think ya should do what's in ya heart. Jean, Ah don't think this baby is the issue. Its father is."  
  
"What should I do about Logan and Scott?"  
  
"What's right. Take a good look at ya marriage before ya throw it away. Once you let it go, ya can't get it back. Make sure it's worth losin'. And then decide what ta do about this baby. Do you want Scott to raise it, whether ya know who the father is or not? Or do ya want ta put he and Logan through the ringer by making them guess which one it is?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Think about it, Jean; do what ya think is right. That's the only advice Ah can give ya."  
  
Rogue turned back to her roses and Jean sat beside her in content silence, thinking about what to do. Rogue was right: she loved her baby; that wasn't the problem. But its father was causing her too much grief. She honestly didn't know who the father was, but deep down she hoped it was Logan. Spawning of new generation of do-gooder, Boy Scouts didn't appeal to her; she wanted her children to be independent, smart, and clever. She wanted them to have minds of their own; in other words, she wanted them to be like Logan. But she also knew that even if Logan were the baby's father, he'd let her do what she wanted, even if it meant letting Scott raise his child. As she'd explained to him in their last agonizing encounter, they had to make sacrifices for the Dream. If they thought news of their affair would hurt Scott, knowing they'd created a child together would kill him. And if Scott was an emotional disaster, the leadership, the strength, the unity of the team would disappear--and they'd be useless as fighters of prejudice. She had to put the team first, and that meant staying with Scott and letting him believe that he, and only he, could be the baby's father.  
  
"Thanks for the advice, Rogue," Jean said as she rose, brushing the dirt off her jeans as she stood.  
  
"Did ya find what ya were looking for? Ah hoped Ah've helped some."  
  
"Actually, you helped a lot. I know what I need to do now."  
  
"Ah hope it works out."  
  
"I do too, Rogue," Jean replied. "I'll see you later," she added as she picked her way out of the garden, careful to avoid Rogue's flowers.  
  
"Remember dinner tonight!" Rogue called after Jean's retreating form. "Remy's cookin' Gumbo, and it's gonna be delicious!" she said with a smack of her lips. "Ya don't wanna miss it!"  
  
"Thanks for the reminder. I'll be there."  
  
"Ah hope Scott comes too."  
  
"We'll see. See you tonight."  
  
"Bye, Jean. And good luck!"  
  
"Thanks," Jean said to herself as she walked away. "I'll need all I can get."  
  
With arms wide open  
Under the sunlight  
Welcome to this place  
I'll show you everything  
With arms wide open  
Now everything has changed  
I'll show you love  
I'll show you everything  
With arms wide open  
  
~ * ~  
  
If I had just one wish  
Only one demand  
I hope he's not like me  
I hope he understands  
That he can take this life  
And hold it by the hand  
And he can greet the world  
With arms wide open...  
  
Jean was sitting at her kitchen table, nursing a cup of herbal tea when Scott came bursting in, a huge smile on his face. Without a word he picked her up and spun her around, her long hair flying around his laughing face. "What's going on Scott? Did we win the lottery?"  
  
"No, silly," he answered, his smile only growing larger. "We're having a baby!. . .but you knew that already."  
  
"Scott, put me down."   
  
"Did I hurt you? Did I hurt the baby?" he asked, the concern evident in his voice.  
  
"No, I'm. . .we're fine. I just think we should rationally discuss this."  
  
"Jean, what's there to discuss? We're having a baby! I mean, yeah, I'm a little annoyed that you didn't tell me, but I don't care anymore. I'm to happy to be angry."  
  
"How did you find out?"  
  
"By accident. Hank discovered that someone had run an anonymous pregnancy test in the lab. He asked me to help him figure out who it was, in case one of the students was in trouble and needed help, and when we investigated, all trails led to you."   
  
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you."  
  
"I don't really mind, I mean, I'm sure you have your reasons. But why didn't you? This was something we should have shared together; I wish I could have been there from the beginning."  
  
Jean sighed and sat down in her chair, the tea now gone cold. "I wasn't sure how you would feel about the baby."  
  
"What do you mean?" Scott asked, sitting down across from her, his face a portrait of confusion. Jean wanted to cry at the concern in his eyes. He was such a good, loving man; he didn't deserve what she'd done to him.  
  
"I didn't know if you wanted a baby."  
  
"Jean, we've been preparation for this forever. I mean, sure we could have planned this better, but you know we've always we've wanted children."  
  
"I know. . .but we've only been married for a little over a year. We hadn't talked about having a child now; I wasn't sure it was the right time."  
  
"A baby is a blessing," Scott said, sounding eerily like Rogue had a few hours before. "It's always the right time. Jean, we have a happy, stable marriage; we're self-sufficient; we're smart and responsible and loving; we're ready for a baby."  
  
"Are you positive?" Jean asked, reaching across the table for Scott's hand. "Is this really what you want?" He reached up and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, lightly caressing her cheek with the back of his hand.  
  
"We've created life," he whispered. "This child is a piece of us, of you and me. It represents all our hopes and dreams for the future, of a peaceful, unprejudiced world. I've never wanted anything more than I want this baby."  
  
"I love you," Jean breathed tearfully. "I want this baby too; I'm just so scared."  
  
"Don't be," he said, pushing his chair back so he could get up and hold his crying wife. "We're going to do this right, Jean. I can't promise that we'll be the best parents on earth, but we'll be the best parents we can be. As long as we have each other, we can't go wrong."  
  
Jean clung tighter to his chest, burying her head in his strong neck. In spite of everything she really did love Scott, really did need him--just as much as she needed Logan. Maybe this baby really was for the best; maybe it was just what they needed to bring themselves back together. Scott was right: as long as they had each other, nothing could go wrong--until the day Scott learned the truth. 


	4. Clipped Wings

"It is human nature to think wisely and act foolishly"- Anatole France  
  
~ * ~  
"Put him right here," Jean instructed Remy and Bobby, pointing to one of the empty beds in the Med Lab. "I have a lot of work to do," she added, her forehead knotted with worry.   
  
"Are ya sure ya don't want any help, sugah?" Rogue asked with concern. "Logan's made a fine mess of himself."  
  
"No, he's fine. It's mostly just cuts and bruises. A little antiseptic and some bandages and he'll be good as new," she said with forced enthusiasm, her voice sounding fake even to her own ears.  
  
"Ya positive?"  
  
"Yes, Rogue. Go be with your daughter. Dominique needs you right now," Jean responded, referring to Rogue and Remy's newborn. "And I'm sure Jean-Luc would love some extra attention, now that there's another baby in the house. I can take care of Logan."  
  
"Okay, sugah. Good luck," Rogue said, waving her fingers in farewell as she took Remy's hand and followed Bobby out of the room.  
  
Jean turned to her patient, the sight of his bruised and battered face bringing tears to her eyes. "Oh, Logan" she whispered, gently brushing a lock of ebony hair of his face. "What have you done to yourself now?"  
  
With one hand Jean slowly dabbed at the cuts on Logan's face; she knew the antiseptic had to sting, but he was so far gone he didn't notice the pain. She rubbed her achy back with her free hand, her fingers kneading some of the tension out of the sore muscles. At six months pregnant her body still wasn't used to the added weight it was carrying around, and she was constantly achy and tired. But her pregnancy was worth the strain it put on her body; every time her baby kicked or moved it brought a smile to her face--and she desperately needed what little happiness she could find. Things with Scott were good, or rather as good as they could get. It wasn't that she was unhappy; how could she be with Scott treating her like a princess? But it was undeniable that something very important was missing: Logan. He'd taken off after their fight in the gym and disappeared from sight. No one had seen him or heard from him or even knew if he was alive until tonight. Tonight, when Remy had found him beat up outside some dive in the heart of Hell's Kitchen. He'd apparently gotten into a drunken fight with fellow patrons, and in his inebriated state, been to uncoordinated to fight back. And now he was lying on her lab table, cut and bleeding and so still it scared her.   
  
She felt for a pulse and found it, beating slow and strong beneath the warm skin of his throat, and released a breath she didn't even realize she was holding. "Thank god," she breathed, her eyes misting over again. "Pregnancy really does do things to a woman's hormones," she thought to herself. From the way she was always crying and upset, you'd think she was watching "Love Story" twenty-four hours a day. Satisfied that she'd cleaned all the cuts on Logan's face, she tossed yet another cotton ball into the garbage pail and put the finishing touches on the bandage on his right cheek. With great effort she bent down and lightly brushed her lips across the healing cut.  
  
Grabbing a pair of scissors she gently worked the blades down the front of Logan's shirt, separating the worn and stained fabric as she moved. The torn cloth revealed a map of now healing bruises and lacerations. "Of course he's nearly healed," Jean said out loud. "He has a healing factor like none other. He's practically back to normal now."  
  
"Jeannie?" a feeble voice called and it took Jean a minute to recognize it as Logan's.   
  
"Logan?" she asked excitedly as she rushed to his side. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Where the hell am I?"  
  
"The Med Lab. Remy found you unconscious outside a bar in the city."  
  
"I'm at the mansion?"  
  
"The Med Lab," Jean repeated.  
  
"I need to get outta here," Logan said, struggling against the tubes and bandages as he tried to rise.  
  
"Stay put," Jean objected as one pale hand pushed firmly on his chest. "You need to heal."  
  
"That's why I'm a mutant. Don't need to rest up after a fight."  
  
Jean conceded a point, but she wasn't about to let up. "Then stay and talk to me. Where on earth have you been for the last six months?"  
  
"Busy," Logan said, pulling at her offending hand. "Now let me go so I can get the hell out of here."  
  
"No!" Jean raged, an angry red flush creeping over her fair skin. "Not until I get an explanation. At the least you owe me that."  
  
"I owe you nothin'," Logan spat, just as furious. "Go back to your husband; I can take care of myself."  
  
"That's not fair, Logan. You know I care about you."  
  
"But not enough."  
  
"That's not true either."  
  
"Then leave with me--tonight. We'll hop on the bike and ride off. . . no one will ever find us."  
  
"I can't," Jean explained.  
  
"You love me, right?"  
  
"You know I do--."  
  
"Then come with me."  
  
"And what? We'll live happily ever after like some fairy tale? I can't abandon my entire life--."  
  
"If you love me enough you would--."  
  
"Right, Logan. I'll forsake the vows I've taken, betray the promises I've made, abandon all the people who depend on me? I can't do that."  
  
"Because of Scott."  
  
"No, not because of Scott. And not because of you either. Because of my life here. I matter here; my students depend on me for learning and encouragement; my medical skills are needed for research and healing; and the Professor depends on me to keep the Dream alive. I'm not just some straggler he pulled off the side of the road, Logan. I was his first student, the first one he taught how to live like a normal person in a world that has nothing to give. I can't give up what I have at this mansion, not even for you."  
  
He took a step closer to her, gently taking her delicate hand in one of his big, callused one. "Not even for love?"  
  
Pulling out of his grasp she turned her back on him, her fingers twining around the hem of her lab coat. "Don't ask of me what you can't give yourself."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I'm not like you, Logan. I can't just pack up and run when the going gets tough. I stick around and solve the problem. Running from your problems doesn't solve anything; they're still there at the back of your mind, always threatening to come out and haunt you. If you couldn't find peace by being a coward, how could I?"  
  
"You think I'm a coward?" Logan asked incredulously, rising to his full height. While he wasn't a tall man, he was a big man--all hard muscle and solid bones. He was virtually indestructible, but he didn't scare Jean; maybe it was because she knew how vulnerable the man inside really was.   
  
"I think you're a coward in the worst way, Logan," Jean said angrily, her coat flying around her body as she turned to face him. "A real man would have stayed and worked this out. But you--you disappeared for six months. Do you know how scared I was? I searched for you every day, but nothing turned up. You could have at least told us you were alive: a postcard, some psychic message--anything to let me know you weren't dead. . ." she trailed off, noticing that Logan was no longer listening to a word she was saying. Instead his eyes were fixated on her abdomen; or more accurately her very pronounced, very pregnant abdomen.   
  
"You're pregnant," he whispered, his eyes never leaving her stomach. "Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
Jean pulled the flaps of her lab coat around herself in a protective gesture, wrapping her arms around her enlarged belly. "You weren't here to tell."  
  
"You could have sent me a message--" he started.  
  
"Like the one you sent me?" Jean asked bitterly. "I don't think so."  
  
Logan took a step forward, his fingers tenderly brushing against Jean's stomach. Beneath his hand the baby squirmed and moved, kicking against Jean's skin. His eyes widened in wonder, something that looked surprisingly like tears hidden in their blue depths. Jean's eyes drifted closed at the contact, her hand closing over his, their enjoyed fingers resting on the enlarged mound of the child.  
  
"Jean," he whispered. "I. . .I . . .Am I the father?"  
  
She pulled her hand away at his question. "I don't know," she said softly. "I just don't know. It could be either of you. . ."  
  
"But you think it's mine."  
  
"I honestly don't know. Sometimes I think it's yours, sometimes I think it's Scott's. But the genetics don't matter. Scott already loves this baby; he doesn't know the truth and I'm not going to tell him. As far as he knows, this child is his; I'm not going to let my mistake hurt him."  
  
"Mistake? Since when is what we had a mistake?"  
  
"Since the beginning! You knew what we were doing was wrong, but you let me continue--."  
  
"I let you continue? It takes two to tango, darlin', and you seemed pretty happy to dance."  
  
"That doesn't matter!" Jean argued, the earlier magic of Logan's discovery fading as their familiar fight began once again. "I made the mistake, I cheated on Scott--and I'm not going to make him pay for my sins. This baby is his, whether Scott is his biological father or not."  
  
"So where does that leave me? I'm supposed to just let Scooter raise my kid?--"  
  
"You don't know if it's your child! Don't say things like that!"  
  
"But it could be. And I have a right to this kid--".  
  
"Logan, think about what you're saying. What will happen to the team, the school, if the truth is revealed? What kind of respect will the school, will Scott or myself have if it gets out that I'm an adulterer? He'll be ruined, I'll be ruined, the Professor will be ruined. I will not let the school's reputation suffer because I was stupid. That's not fair to anyone."  
  
"But it's fair that you let a man who might not be your kid's father raise him? And you say I'm a coward, darlin'. You're the coward--good, righteous Jeannie who never makes a decision for herself, never does what she wants to do. Have you ever put yourself first, Red?"   
  
"That's not the point--"  
  
"Yeah, it is. You'd rather let the wrong man raise your kid than hurt a man you don't even love--"  
  
"I do love Scott!"  
  
"More than you love me?"  
  
"It's a different kind of love."  
  
"I know. You might 'love' Scott, but you're 'in love' with me."  
  
Jean couldn't meet his eyes. "Jeannie," Logan whispered, gently raising her chin so he could look her in the eye. "I don't want to fight with you. I. . .I just want the truth."  
  
"The truth?" Jean said tearfully. "I don't even know what the truth is anymore."  
  
"Don't cry, Jeannie. I hate it when you cry," Logan said quietly, pulling her into the shelter of his arms. He could feel the baby moving against him, it's tiny feet and hands kicking against the womb protecting it. If only he could protect Jean from the pain she was feeling. "It will be okay, darlin'" he crooned in her ear. "We'll make it through this."  
  
"You don't get it, Logan," Jean said as a fresh batch of tears started. "There is no us, can't be an us. I'm married to Scott; whatever we were is no more."  
  
"Even if it created a child?" Logan asked, his hand splayed over her stomach.   
  
"Yes," Jean said brokenly. "We can't be more than friends--"  
  
"What's going on here?" Scott's angry voice interrupted, his eyes taking in his greatest enemy clasping his wife in his arms. "Jean?" he asked expectantly.  
  
"I was just welcoming Logan back," she said awkwardly, pulling out of the cradle of Logan's arms. "He got into a bit of a fight tonight."  
  
"I can see," Scott agreed, his eyes shifting over the cuts and bruises on Logan's face. "But I don't think he needs your help anymore."  
  
"That's for Jeannie to decide," Logan broke in. "She's the Doc."  
  
"He'll be fine, Scott. But I would like to monitor his progress, just in case."  
  
A muscle in Scott's cheek jumped and his hands clenched into fists. "Jean, do you could excuse Logan and I for a moment? We need to talk."  
  
Jean looked from man to man, her eyes laced with concern. "Scott, this isn't a good time. Logan's just begun to heal from a traumatic--."   
  
"It's fine, darlin'" Logan assured her. "We're just talkin', right?"  
  
"Of course," Scott said icily, his expression hidden behind his ruby-quartz visor.   
  
"I'll be right down the hall," Jean said, her eyes scanning the room for weapons. A faint stream of blue light appeared in front of her as she mentally locked the scalpels and blades securely in a closet. "Just call me if you need me," she called over her shoulder as she left the Med Lab, wondering if either man would make it out again alive.  
  
~ * ~  
"Okay, Bub" Logan said. "You've caught my attention. What do you want?"  
  
"Like I said. To talk."  
  
"You don't just talk, Scooter; you order. So what are you going to tell me to do now?"  
  
"I want you to stay away from Jean."  
  
"Not a possibility."  
  
"She's my wife, Logan--and she's pregnant. She needs to be relaxed as possible; with her workload and responsibilities to the team, she doesn't need the added stress of your problems. Leave her alone and get on with your life."  
  
"She's my friend. I'm not gonna abandon her when she needs me."  
  
"She doesn't need you at all. She has me, her friends, the Professor--"  
  
"Trust me, that's not what she needs."  
  
"Are you saying I'm a bad husband? I love my wife; nothing is more important to me than her and our child. And her priorities are the same; she always puts me and our baby first."  
  
Logan's irises burned a blue fire, his eyes glaring into Scott's visor. "You don't understand the woman you're married to."  
  
"And you do? What the hell would she see in you, Logan? You, who drinks and smokes and swears; those are the exact things Jean hates. She spends time with you because she feels sorry for you, feels sorry for the poor animal who lost his memory and doesn't know who he is or what he was. You're like some pathetic stray dog she took in and nursed back to health; and now that you're healed, you no longer have a reason to be here."  
  
Logan didn't allow himself to feel hurt over Scott's words, having heard them hundreds of times before. Nor did he break it to Scott that his vices were Jeans' biggest turn-ons. If he had a nickel for every time Jean had told him how much she loved the smell of cigars on his skin or how he talked dirty to her in bed, he'd be a very rich man. It figured that Scott wouldn't really know the woman he was married to--if he did, he know how terrified Jean was of her pregnancy and how little she wanted to share it with Scott. From the few moments they'd spent together, bonding over the baby, he'd understood that she'd never shared the same experience with Scott--because Scott would never understand what she was going through the way he would  
  
"Do you know she's scared out of her mind?" Logan asked, deciding to be nice for once and clue Scott in to what was going on with his wife.  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"And you say you're a good husband. If you were half as devoted as you claim you are you'd notice that she's terrified of this pregnancy, of the kid. She's so afraid she'll mess up and screw the kid up--and you didn't even notice."  
  
"Jean is fine," Scott protested. "She would tell me if something was upsetting her."  
  
"You can't see your marriage for what it really is, can you? She can't turn to you Scott, because she knows you don't really care. The only things that matter to you are what are important to you: the team, your kid, the front Jean puts up. But you don't give a damn about what she wants or needs unless it affects you.  
  
"That's not true and you know it."  
  
"No, the truth is that don't really love Jean, Scott. Hell, you probably don't even want her either. You just want the image she provides; she's beautiful and smart and looks great on your arm. And even better, she buys into your shit and plays the part of the dutiful wife. But she doesn't love you. And she won't as long as you're such an arrogant piece of crap."  
  
"And you're any better? You run off for months at a time and leave us high and dry. Do you know what a pain in the ass it was replacing your butt while you drunk yourself into oblivion? You didn't even tell us you were leaving; Jean almost went crazy wondering if you were dead or alive. Where were you all this time?"  
  
"Trying to drink away the memory of your wife in my arms," Logan thought to himself. It was true that he'd spent the last six months in a drunken stupor as he tried to forget Jean. But every time he thought he'd gotten over her, he'd be haunted by dreams of a red-haired temptress with an angel's face and the devil's touch, and he'd know he was far from over her. "I was busy," he said instead, refusing to give Scott the satisfaction of knowing the truth. If he did, he'd just rub it in his face that he was the one who possessed Jean, that it was his wedding ring on her finger, his child she was carrying. Well, Logan had him on that one. He had a nagging feeling Jean did know the father of her child, and it wasn't her husband.  
  
"Busy isn't an explanation, Logan; it's an excuse. I might be distracted and my priorities might not be the best, but at least I'm responsible. If I feel the need to take time off, I at least have the decency to tell people where I'm going and when I'll be back. We didn't even get a note or message from you, just six months of waiting for the Canadian fool to make an appearance. And in the short time you've been back you've managed to upset my very pregnant wife, something she can't afford to go through right now. So tell me Logan, where have you really been?"  
  
"None of your business."  
  
"That is so irresponsible, Logan. You are such a--"  
  
"Excuse me!" Rogue's voice interrupted their argument. She stood in the doorway, clad in nothing but a short t-shirt, her auburn curls flying down her back in a tangled mass. "Ah don't know what ya two are doin' in here, but ya keepin' the entire house up! Ah have two babies who need their sleep, an you're makin' enough noise to wake tha dead. Either take it outside, or shut up!"  
  
"Sorry Rouge," Scott said sheepishly, always the pillar of respect and dignity. "I'm sorry we kept the children up."  
  
"Ya should be!" Rogue shot back. "My babies don't deserve to miss their sleep 'cause ya two are havin' some kind of testosterone war. Now go ta bed!" She stormed out of the room, leaving behind a trail of magnolia perfume and the righteous indignation of an angry mother. Logan genuinely felt bad about keeping her kids up; he knew how much she loved Jean-Luc, and from how she was talking, he guessed she felt the same way about the new baby. It wasn't fair that innocent children were suffering because he couldn't keep his jealousy in check.  
  
"Good night, Scott" he said a bit wearily. He was tired of fighting, tired of defending himself, tired of justifying his actions.   
  
"You're leaving?" Scott said incredulously. "We're not done yet!"  
  
"No, we're not. But I'm not in the mood to get reamed out by Rogue again." He turned and left, his boots softly thumping down the hall.  
  
Scott slumped against a lab table, his mind in shock. Jean and Logan didn't know how long he'd been watching them, listening to their conversation. They didn't know he'd seen Logan's fingers on Jean's stomach, seen the recognition in his eyes when he realized how questionable the baby's paternity was. They didn't know that he knew the baby wasn't his. But he wasn't about to fill either of them in; for all intents and purposes, he was the baby's father--and that was how things were going to stay.  
  
~ * ~  
"How did it go with Scott?" Jean asked Logan nervously when he found her hours later, watching the snow fall from a window seat in the living room. "What did he tell you to do?"  
  
Logan chuckled at her question; she really did know her husband through and through. He sat down next to her and pulled her feet into his lap, gently massaging one through the thickness of her wool sock. "He told me to stay away from you."  
  
"Are you going to listen?"  
  
"I tried it once; didn't work. It's not worth it to run again."  
  
"So you're staying?" Jean questioned, letting out a sigh of relief.  
  
"I'm needed here. The Professor wants me to start physical training with some of the students. I always thought of myself as an adventurer; now I'm just your run of the mill gym teacher."  
  
"It will be good for you to interact with the students. You'll learn a lot from them."  
  
"I know what you're thinkin'. They won't replace you, Jean. Nothin' can replace you."  
  
"You have to try."  
  
"I can't, Jean. I might like my students, might form attachments with them like you always wanted me to. But nobody will ever take your place in my heart; nobody ever could."  
  
Jean pulled her feet out of his hands and tucked them under her, pulling herself into a ball as best she could with the huge obstacle of her stomach in the way. She leaned her forehead against the window, her mind contemplating the hell she'd created for herself.  
  
"Whatcha thinkin', darlin'?"  
  
"That you must hate me."  
  
"Jeannie, Jeannie," he whispered, once again taking her in his arms. "I could never hate you. I hate what you're doing, but I could never hate you. I love you. I'll love you forever."  
  
"Logan, why does it hurt so much? Why does love have to hurt so much?"  
  
"I don't know," he reasoned, his big, rough fingers stroking the silkiness of her hair. "But they say whatever doesn't kill you, saves you. I guess this is some sort of test."  
  
Jean looked up at him, her sea-green eyes meeting his dark blue ones. "I didn't know you were a god-fearing man."  
  
"I'm not. It's just that. . .everyone needs something to believe in. I believe that there is a plan for us, and that some day, when the time is right, we'll be together. Think about it, Jeannie," he added, slipping out of her embrace and disappearing into the night.   
  
Jean went back to the window, her eyes never leaving the beauty of the winter scene outside, and her heart yearning that her life could be as peaceful and calm as the falling snow.  



	5. It's a Miracle

"We find a delight in the beauty and happiness of children that makes the heart too big for the body."- Ralph Waldo Emerson  
  
~ * ~  
It was snowing outside, the delicate flakes coating the New York landscape with a layer of frothy white. In a few hours the clock would strike twelve, the partygoers would ring in the new year, and make resolutions they had no intention of keeping. "Sort of like my life," Logan thought to himself. He continuously made promises: that he'd leave the mansion and carve a life for himself away from Jean; that he'd find someone new, move on with his life; that he'd give his heart away as freely as Jean wanted him to--but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't force himself to leave the masochistic hell of Charles' Xavier's sprawling mansion.  
  
His eyes focused on the happy couple, Jean and Scott, celebrating not only the incoming year, but the birth of their first child, due in a month. Jean was breathtaking, a vision in sparkling white that hugged her curves and accentuated her extended abdomen. Scott stood beside her, beaming with masculine pride, as they greeted the couples and accepted congratulations on their incoming arrival. Jean's choice of color was ironic, but not particularly shocking; in the last few months she'd taken to going to church and saying bedtime prayers--her belated attempt to achieve redemption for her sins. Yet, as hard as she tried Logan knew she'd never find absolution--because she'd never truly believed what she was doing was wrong. How could she honestly find fault in loving someone?  
  
"Jean, Scott, congratulations," he heard a female voice gush to the 'happy couple.' "You must be so excited--and thrilled," the woman continued.  
  
"Thank you, Louisa," Jean replied. "Words can't describe how I feel."  
  
"Very true," Logan thought. He doubted Louisa knew how it felt to pass of one man's child as another's.   
  
"Have you decided on a name yet?" Louisa asked. "Or do you know if it's a boy or a girl."  
  
"Well," Scott started, pumping out his chest as he spoke. "I like Rachel for a girl, and I think Scott Junior would be perfect for a boy, but--"  
  
"We haven't really decided," Jean interrupted. "We want to keep it a surprise."  
  
"Of course," Louisa commented. "Well, good luck." She drifted away, leaving a fuming Jean in her wake.  
  
"Scott, how dare you?" Jean accused. "You know we haven't chosen a name yet!"  
  
"You said you liked Scott Junior," he defended himself.  
  
"I didn't say I didn't like it, Scott. But I never said that was what I wanted to name my child."  
  
"I'm sorry. We'll decide on the name later, okay? Let's not fight at the party. We'll discuss this later."  
  
"Fine," Jean said, pasting a smile on her face as Scott pulled her in for a kiss. To the casual observer they appeared to be the epitome of a happy, expecting couple--but Logan's carefully trained eye saw more, most notably that her smile had yet to reach her eyes.  
  
"Jean, Scooter," Logan said as he approached the two. "Congratulations."  
  
"Logan!" Jean cried. "I didn't think you'd be here; I hope you're enjoying the party."  
  
"Came to wish the new parents the best."  
  
"And now that you have, you can leave; you're not welcome at this party, Logan."  
  
"Scott!" Jean exclaimed, placing a hand on his arm. "There's no need to be rude; Logan was simply being polite."  
  
"There's always an ulterior motive where he's concerned--and it usually has something to do with you. I'm going to get a drink. Say what you have to say to Jean, Logan. I want you gone when I get back."  
  
Jean looked at him with commiserating eyes, but they did nothing to soothe his anger. The last thing he wanted was her pity.   
  
"I'm sorry about Scott's behavior," Jean explained. "He's been very uneasy the last few months; he has a lot on his mind, and he's worried about me and the baby."  
  
"I don't care about Scooter. I only care about you."  
  
"Logan, stop!" Jean hissed. "You can't talk like that here, not with all these people around. They'll get suspicious."  
  
"You mean they'll figure out the truth."  
  
"No, I mean they'll ruin my life, and the lives of everyone I care about--including you. Now tell me the truth; why are you really here?"  
  
"To see you. You've been hiding, Jeannie."  
  
Jean sucked in her breath at the nickname only he called her. "I've been very busy; winter always brings about a lot of accidents, and the students have been steadily twisting ankles and spraining wrists and--"  
  
"Stop making excuses. You've been avoiding me."  
  
"You make things. . .complicated."  
  
"Complications are what makes life interestin'."  
  
"Complications are something I can't afford. Thank you for your congratulations. Good-bye, Logan." She turned on her heel and walked away, quickly finding her husband in the crowd and linking arms with him. Logan could here her greet another group of well-wishes, her laughter carrying over the crowd.   
  
Logan contemplated his situation. Maybe it was time to call it a night; after all, he wasn't getting anything accomplished at this party--accept a steady kick in the gut. He was about to leave when magnolia perfume filled his senses and the sharp clicking of spiked heels sounded to his left.  
  
"Here sugah," Rogue said in her breathy, Southern drawl as she thrust a glass containing a smooth, amber liquid into his hand.  
  
"What is this?" Logan asked as he sniffed the glass.  
  
"Whiskey; Glen Livett. Tha finest from tha Highland's of Scotland. Ah know it ain't a permanent cure for a brokin' heart, but it should do the trick for a bit."  
  
Logan looked down into Rogue's sympathetic eyes and pushed away the urge to snap at her. She honestly wasn't pitying him; she was trying to help. "Thanks," he said, downing the alcohol in one gulp. "Got anymore where this came from?"  
  
She gave him a conspiratorial wink and led him towards a table where Remy, Hank of all people, and Bobby were playing some sort of drinking game.  
  
"Logan, mon ami," Remy drawled, his Cajun accent more pronounced in his slightly inebriated state. "Ya any good at quarters? Da' Doc an' Bobby are killin' me."  
  
Logan knew he shouldn't spend the night getting drunk at Jean's party; but when faced with the alternative of watching Scott and Jean play house and throw their pregnancy in his face, getting blazed out of his mind seemed like a pretty good idea. Like Rogue had said: it wasn't a permanent cure for unrequited love, but it would make the night a little easier to get through.  
  
"Gumbo, you've got a partner. Let's show these kid's what it means to drink."  
  
~ * ~  
"Logan, why do you do this to yourself?" Jean asked a few hours later as she pulled off his shoes. The four men had achieved their goal and gotten thoroughly smashed, leaving an amused Rogue, an embarrassed Ororo, and a furious Jean the job of getting them to bed. Scott had grudgingly carried Logan up the stairs, only to dump him unceremoniously on his bed and storm out of the room, leaving Jean to ensure he didn't fall getting into bed.  
  
"Do you know how beautiful you are?" Logan whispered. With surprising gentleness he brushed her cheek with his knuckles; Jean unconsciously turned into the caress, her breathing quickening as her skin made contact with his. "You're like an angel," Logan continued. "My angel, sent to Earth to protect me. You say you hate me, Jeannie, but I know you're lyin'; you'd never let anyone hurt me. An' I feel the same; you're mine Jeannie, now and forever. Scott may have you according to the laws of the land, but I have you by the laws of the heart. Body and soul, you'll always be mine."  
  
Jean felt her heartbeat accelerate at Logan's beautiful words; she hated when he talked like that--because it made her believe she and Logan had chance when she knew there was nothing left for them. "Logan, stop talking. You're drunk; you don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"I know I love you--and that you love me. And even if you stay married to Scott for the rest of your life, you'll die knowing you loved another man--and you let him go."  
  
Jean pulled out of Logan's embrace and dropped his shoes on the floor. "Goodnight, Logan," she said flatly. "I left Aspirin on your night table. When you wake up tomorrow with a bitch of hangover don't come to my lab. You know what?" she said, her voice angry now. "Don't see me at all. I told you, all you are is a complication, a problem. And I don't need problems in my life. And I don't love you, not anymore. I love my husband and my baby and the family we're creating together. So stay away from me; away from me and away from Scott, and away from my baby!" Jean stormed out of the room, angrily slamming the door behind her.  
  
Logan attempted to follow her, but stumbled in his drunken state and narrowly caught himself from falling over and banging his head against the desk chair. He cursed when he realized he couldn't do anything to solve the problem in his current state. "Tomorrow, I'll fix this," he assured himself. By then he'd be sober and calmer and ready to make up with Jean. He fell asleep with a smile on his face, knowing things would be all better in the morning.  
  
~ * ~  
Things weren't better though. It had been two weeks since his fight with Jean, and she'd gone through with her threat: she avoided him at all costs and went out of her way to stay away from him when they were forced to be in the same room together. He wanted to leave again; being away from Jean was hard, but being near her and unable to touch her was worse. And he would leave--if it wasn't for his students. Somehow, in the last few months, his group of ragged, hard-edged juvenile delinquents had found a place in his heart. Jean had told him it would happen, that in the course of a short time the students would worm their way inside and get under his skin--and they had. They counted on him for advice, both in weightlifting and muscle training, but also about life in general. He'd never thought he'd be dishing out love advice, not when his own love life was so screwed up, but when the first boy had come to him and shyly questioned how to ask out a girl, he'd become a male Dr. Ruth.   
  
But now the mansion was quiet, empty. The students had a month off from Christmas to the end of January, and the Professor had insisted that every student leave the mansion's premises, something about the student's getting a break from school and its environment. Even those without parents or the means to travel were given a fully-paid trip to the Massachusetts Academy during break. Even the team's standard members had disappeared: Remy and Rogue had taken the children to New Orleans to introduce Dominique to the Thieves Guild; Warren and Betsey were skiing in Aspen; even Hank and the Professor had fled to a medical conference in Washington, DC. That left himself, Jean, Scott, Ororo, and Bobby at the mansion to battle the increasingly active Friends of Humanity. He was just on his way to the roof to smoke a cigar when raised voices broke through the utter silence of the empty house. Logan crept silently around a corner to find Scott, suited up for a mission, and Jean arguing in the hallway.  
  
"Jean, I don't have to go on this mission," Scott said, his voice carrying through the mansion. "Storm is just as capable as I am; she can lead."  
  
"No, Scott," Jean argued. "You need to be there. Our numbers are already down because so many people are out of town; we can't afford to lose another team member. If we're going to run a skeleton crew, you need to go."  
  
"But I can't, Jean. Not when you're so close to your due date."  
  
"Scott," Jean said, her voice taking on that soothing quality she always used when she wanted to win a fight. "I'll be fine; the hospital is close by. This mission is too important for you not to go."  
  
"Jean--"  
  
"Scott, that Friends of Humanity base must be shut down. You need to go."  
  
"Okay," Scott relented, pulling Jean into his arms for a hug. "But I want you to rest while I'm gone. Can you promise me you'll do that?"  
  
"I promise," Jean said, snuggling closer into Scott's arms. "Good luck, Scott. Come home safe, okay?"  
  
"As good as new," he answered, pressing his lips to her forehead in a quick kiss. "Now you get to bed; I want you rested when I get back." Jean waved goodbye as she headed down the hall towards their bedroom. Scott turned and walked in the direction of the Blackbird hanger where Logan knew Storm and the rest of the team were waiting for instructions.   
  
Once Scott was gone, Logan took off in the direction of Jean's bedroom, just to make sure she was okay. As he approached the room he could smell apples and cinnamon, signaling that Jean was taking another of her bubble baths; she'd given up showers a month ago when it had become too difficult to move in the narrow stall without bumping herself, and had taken up soaking in a bubble-filled tub instead. With Jean sufficiently occupied, Logan decided it was finally time to smoke that cigar; with all the shit that had been going on recently it was the only thing that relaxed him, the only thing that allowed him to escape from his problems and Jean and the emotional walls she'd put up around her heart.  
  
~ * ~  
Jean let out a sigh as the hot water started to ease some of the tension in her muscles. Her back had been achy all day, and the bath was definitely helping quench the pain. But to be honest, she'd been tense since her confrontation with Logan weeks ago. She hadn't meant any of the things she'd said to him, but she'd had to make him understand that they couldn't be together. There was too much at stake, too many people whose feelings came first--and the only way to make him see was to hurt him. She'd seen his hurt eyes every time she'd pushed him away or make a snide comment to his face--if only he knew how much it hurt her to see the agony in his eyes.  
  
Noticing that the water was getting cool and her fingers were starting to prune, Jean stepped out of the tub and pulled the plug, letting her in-home relaxation parlor slurp slowly down the drain. After quickly drying off she dressed in a pair of Scott's sweats and wool socks, hoping the softness of the material would ease some of the ache out of her body. She had just settled down for Scott's mandatory nap when she felt it for the first time, a jarring pain in her back. Frowning slightly, she rolled over and went back to sleep, but it was back half an hour later, just as sharp and even more painful. Her medical mind flew into over drive and she realized what was happening--the baby was coming.   
  
"Scott," she screamed, realizing too late that her rescue attempts were futile. Scott was currently in some seedy part of Manhattan battling prejudiced pugilists. "Scott," she screamed again. "Oh, God," she whispered. "What am I going to do?" Jean knew all about delivering babies--but other people's babies, not her own. "Okay, Jean" she breathed to herself, pacing her bedroom to ease the contractions. "You can do this. Remember 'The Good Earth'? She had her baby all by herself and went back into the fields minutes later. You're surrounded by high-tech medical equipment. You can--ah!" she screamed as another contraction hit. They were coming faster and faster and getting more painful as they progressed. If she didn't get to the Med-Lab soon she was going to be in serious trouble.   
  
She struggled towards the Med-Lab, pausing to stop as each contraction hit. Suddenly she felt a rush of fluid between her legs and realized her water had just broke. It wouldn't be long until the baby was born.   
  
"I'm going to die," she said out-loud. "I'm alone and in labor and I'm going to die. I can't do this alone; I need doctors and a hospital and epidurals and fetal monitors. I'm going to die." She had just started to pray to God for forgiveness for her sins when she felt strong arms surround her and a soft hand brush the sweaty hair off her face.   
  
"Jean," she heard Logan ask, his voice soft with concern. "Jean, what's happening?"  
  
"Logan!" she gasped, never so thankful to see someone before in her life. "Oh, thank god. Logan, I need you. I'm--ah!" she screamed in reaction to another contraction. They were only minutes apart now and she new she was severely dilated; it was time to get to the Med-Lab. "Logan, I'm in labor. I need you to help me."  
  
"Labor?" he questioned, his eyes wide with shock. "But you're three weeks early. You can't be having the baby now--."  
  
"Logan, if you don't get me to the Med-Lab now I'm going to have this baby in the hallway!"  
  
"Okay!" he said, scooping her up into his arms and running towards the Med-Lab. "We're here," he said pushing the doors wide and depositing her on one of the cots. "What do I do? Boil water?" he joked.  
  
"Hot water isn't all I need. Get blankets, one to catch the baby and another to wrap it in later. I need something to tie the umbilical cord and get sterile scissors to cut it," Jean ordered between contractions.   
  
For the first time in his life Logan felt truly helpless; Jean's face was lined with pain and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was tempted to offer her Tylenol or Advil, but he knew neither would do anything to help the kind of pain she was in. She was sitting up in the bed, her knees drawn up and her legs spread. She was breathing the way women did in movies and screaming with each contraction. He hurried to get the supplies she needed before rushing back to her bedside. "Jean," he whispered, his own eyes wracked with pain. "What can I do to help you? To ease the pain?"  
  
Jean forced a strained smile on her face, "It will be over soon; and it's worth it. I suffer a little pain, but I get one of life's miracles in the process. You just--." She screamed again and he knew something big was happening. "Logan, I think this is it. I need you to catch the baby when it's born."  
  
Logan shook his head in agreement, and moved to the position Jean wanted him in. He knew he looked calm, but inside he was terrified. He knew how dangerous childbirth was, even in the best of hospitals--and while they had the best of equipment, the only one who knew how to use it was having the baby. She could die--and it would be on his hands. He could live with losing her, but he couldn't live if she died and he was responsible.   
  
"Logan," Jean said weakly, catching one of his hands in hers. "I need you to focus, and listen to what I say. I know you're scared--" she smiled when he started to protest. "I can see it in your eyes; I know you're scared, but I need you to be strong for me. I can't do this alone."  
  
He nodded and resumed his position. "I'm going to start pushing," Jean said slowly. "Watch for the baby's head. Make sure the umbilical cord isn't caught around its neck."  
  
Logan couldn't take his eyes off the miracle occurring before his eyes. "Jean," he whispered, "I love you." He knew it wasn't what she wanted to hear, but when faced with the prospect of never seeing her again, he needed to tell her how he truly felt. "I'll always love you. Don't leave me. Please God don't leave me."  
  
She reached out and stroked his cheek with her fingers. "I'll never leave you. How could I leave you when I love you so? I don't care about Scott; I only care about you."  
  
He smiled at her answer, a smile of pure masculine satisfaction, and turned back to his work. Jean started pushing again and the baby started working it's way out of her body. Jean was moaning and groaning; he wanted to help her, to hold her hand and smooth her sweat-soaked hair off her forehead, but he didn't dare leave the place he was. He couldn't risk something happening to his child.   
  
The baby was smaller than he'd thought it would be and covered with a noxious looking fluid. But the child was beautiful--and loud. The kid hadn't started crying from the moment it had left it's mother's body. He caught the baby just like Jean had ordered him to and followed her instructions for tying and cutting the cord, and delivering the afterbirth.   
  
Jean struggled to a sitting position, her body exhausted from the ordeal it had just gone through. "Logan, is the baby okay?" she questioned. "What is it? A boy or a girl?"  
  
"A boy," Logan said shakily as he placed the bundle in Jean's arms. "A perfect little boy." He knelt next to her as she gazed at her son, unconsciously slipping an arm around her waist. She rested her forehead against his as they watched the baby open his eyes for the first time.   
  
"He's beautiful, Logan," Jean breathed. "He's absolutely perfect."  
  
Logan pressed a gentle kiss against her lips. "Perfect like his mother. Jean, I--"  
  
Whatever he was saying was interrupted as the Med-Labs double doors were pushed open and Scott came flying through, still geared up for the mission. "Jean," he cried frantically. "What happened? We were in the middle of the mission and I got a telepathic distress signal over our link. You were in pain. Are you okay?"  
  
"I'm fine, Scott," Jean answered, gesturing him over to the bed with a smile. "Come meet your son."  
  
"My son!" Scott gasped. "But the baby isn't due for weeks--."  
  
"He came a little early," Jean explained. Logan stepped back from the bed in shock. What happened to the tender moments they had shared in the wake of the baby's birth? Why was Jean so brutally turning her back on him? But one look from Jean's anguished eyes made him change his mind. He could see the pain and confusion there, the bitter battle between right by law and right in her heart. And being good, noble Jean Grey, she did what was expected of her, not what she wanted to do. He didn't want to cause her more pain, especially not now--so he stepped back and let Scott see his son.   
  
"Logan, what are you doing here?" Scott asked, noticing Logan for the first time.  
  
"Logan helped deliver the baby. If it wasn't for his help, we both might not be here today," Jean answered carefully, shooting Logan a tender smile that brimmed with love. That was all it took for the anger and frustration of the last few minutes to melt away; Jean was telling him she loved him--she just couldn't choose him over Scott.   
  
"Well," Scott said, looking ashamed for the first time in Logan's considerable experience with him. "I owe you an apology. Thank you for helping Jean."  
  
"I'd never let anything happen to Jeannie."  
  
Scott nodded and turned back to his wife. "Have you named him yet, Jean? When should I send out the Scott Summers, Jr. birth announcements."  
  
"Actually, Scott," Jean said. "I've chosen something different."   
  
"But I thought that was what we decided on," Scott persisted.  
  
"No, I don't think it's appropriate, considering the circumstances of his birth."  
  
"So what would you name him instead?"  
  
"Michael."  
  
"Michael?"  
  
"It's Hebrew. It means "gift from God". I can't think of a more precious gift than this child."  
  
"And what about the middle name?"  
  
"Logan. For the man's whose help made his life possible," Jean answered with a smile, and Logan couldn't help but smirk in response; it was ironic, Scott Summer's precious child was being named after his greatest enemy--and Logan had caught the implied meaning of Jean's carefully chosen words. "Michael Logan Summers."  
  
Scott's face turned several shades of red, but he didn't argue with Jean. "I don't really care what his name is. I'm just glad he and his mother are both healthy." He shot a pointed look in Logan's direction, sending the basic message that it was time to leave.   
  
"Jean, you need anything?" Logan asked before he left.   
  
"No, I'm fine," she answered. Seeing that Scott was too engrossed in the baby to notice what she was doing, she mouthed "I love you" over the baby's head. "I'll see you later."  
  
"Later," he said; he managed to keep his voice flat and devoid of emotion, but he couldn't prevent the smile that crept over his face.  
  
~ * ~  
It was late, the moon was rising and stars were twinkling in the black sky, but Logan knew Jean was awake. Scott was still telling the story of his son's birth to whoever would listen, so Logan took the opportunity to pay Jean a visit. Sure enough, she was sitting in bed, in her bedroom now, watching her sleeping son.   
  
"Hey," he said, careful to keep his step light and not wake the baby. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Come here," Jean said, patting the bed beside her. He walked towards her and sat down.   
  
"He's so small," Logan whispered.   
  
"Do you want to hold him?"  
  
Logan looked at her with surprised eyes. "Are you sure? What if I break him or something?"  
  
Jean rolled her eyes. "You won't hurt him. Here," she added, gently placing the baby in his arms. "See, it's not so bad."  
  
Logan couldn't speak, the force of holding his own flesh and blood having taken away his ability to talk. He didn't care what Jean said; one look at the baby and he knew it was his son. There was just something about Michael that brought back memories he didn't know existed, made him think of a childhood he couldn't remember.  
  
"Are you mad?" Jean asked suddenly, breaking into his thoughts. "About the way I treated you before?"  
  
Logan said nothing for a moment. "I'm not mad at you. I just wish things were different. I know you love me; I wish we didn't have to hide it."  
  
"I know," Jean said with a sigh, running a finger over her son's silken cheek. The baby started to stir in Logan's arms and he quickly gave the boy back to his mother before he started to cry. Once in Jean's arms Michael calmed down and drifted back to sleep. "Will you stay here with me tonight?" Jean asked quietly, her voice uncertain. "I need you."  
  
"What about Scott?"   
  
"Scott's busy acting the "Proud Papa. Anyway, if he catches you, we'll just say you came to visit and fell asleep."  
  
"Jean, I don't think it's a good idea. If Scott finds out it could be bad."  
  
"Since when have you been afraid of Scott?"  
  
"I'm not!" Logan said angrily. "But I don't want him getting angry with you."  
  
"He won't," Jean assured him. "Just stay with me. Please?"  
  
Logan couldn't say no. Jean scooted over a bit and he lay down beside her. One arm wrapped around the woman he loved, the other around the son he couldn't have. 


	6. Love Hurts

Author's Note:  
Sorry it took so long for an update, but it's been a busy summer. I've been frustrated with fanfiction.net and the way stories are uploading, and I moved last week, so things have been a mess. Also, thank you for all the support I've been getting for this story. I know most Movieverse fans seem to prefer Logan/Rogue, but as a diehard Rogue/Gambit fan, the only person I can honestly see with Logan is Jean. I know she often comes off as weak and annoying, but I think she has so much potential, and it could be well utilized by a relationship with Logan. I know this chapter is on the short side, but the really important stuff is coming soon.  
  
And on a side note:  
I'm thinking about starting a long-planned story about Rogue/Gambit that centers around the events of Uncanny #350. Would anyone be interested? Please let me know. Anyway, enjoy this chapter.  
  
~ * ~  
"The best proof of love is trust."- Anon  
  
~ * ~  
"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to Michael. Happy birthday to you!" Cheers erupted as Scott blew out the candles on his son's birthday cake, and cameras flashed as the partygoers took pictures of the birthday boy. Logan watched in annoyance as Scott kissed Jean, his face genuinely loving as he nuzzled his wife. Jean looked just as radiant as she returned the kiss, her cheeks flaming as Bobby and Remy made a series of loud whooping sounds. Pulling away from her husband, Jean turned towards the birthday boy himself.  
  
"Happy birthday, Mikey," Jean said with a smile as she dropped a kiss on her bewildered son's cheek. He giggled in response, reaching his chubby arms towards his mother. She picked him up, oohing and ahhing as Scott cut the cake and began distributing pieces. Logan watched as Scott and Jean fed Michael his first piece of cake, getting more on his face than in his mouth. He turned away and walked towards the window. He hadn't wanted to come to this party, hadn't wanted to watch his son turn a year without him. He hadn't wanted to see another man's eyes light up with love and affection for the child he thought of as his own; he hadn't wanted to see Jean playing house with Scott.   
  
He was dying inside, watching the guests giggle and coo over the baby, remarking about how much he looked like Scott and how much he was like his father. He had to get out of there, had to hop on his bike and stick a cigar in his mouth and disappear into the horizon. The only thing keeping him at the mansion was Michael. He had gotten to the point where he was convinced he could live without Jean. He'd be miserable, but it had to better than living with her, yet being unable to be with her. But he couldn't live without his kid; even if he couldn't claim Michael as his own, just being near him was what kept him going. He was dead inside; Jean Grey had captured his heart, only to ruthlessly destroy it. She was never going to leave Scott, not even if her heart belonged to someone else.   
  
The truth was she wasn't so miserable without him. Scott was good to her, even more so now that the baby had arrived. Michael's birth had mellowed him, relaxed him some how and he was a much better husband now. He listened to Jean more, really listened to her--like he had used to do. Logan wondered if she ever loved him at all.   
  
Cursing under his breath he pulled his keys out of his pocket and headed towards the garage to where his bike was stored.   
  
~ * ~  
Jean watched Logan over the baby's head, her heart breaking at the pain she saw in his eyes. His features were set in his usual mask of indifference, but his eyes gave it all away. They burned a blue fire, filled with jealousy and rage, but love as well. He loved Michael, would do anything for him--but he was furious with her. As he'd said before, he could never hate her, but he could hate what she was doing to him--keeping his son away from him. The last year had been agony for her. She'd forced herself to stay with Scott: for his sake, for Michael's sake, for the Dream's sake--for everyone's sake but her own. On the surface she'd been the loyal wife, devoted mother; but on the inside she was dying. Scott was trying to understand her better, he really was, but it wasn't the same. She needed Logan, the one person who didn't judge her or make her feel like she had to be someone she wasn't; she needed the man who touched her soul. She loved Scott in an easy, comfortable sort of way: she knew he would always be there for her, no matter what, and that his love wasn't something she had to fight for, it was just there, as stable and reliable as he was. But, Logan--Logan--she loved with all the passion of her being; every day without him was torture; every time she saw him flirting with another woman was a stab in the heart; every time she woke in the night and reached for Logan, only to find safe, dependable Scott beside her reopened a would she'd spent months trying to heal. She loved Logan, but she wasn't sure she could ever be with him.   
  
She glanced over at him, at the stiffness of his muscles and his taunt posture and knew he was suffering. She couldn't bear to see Logan so forlorn, not when she was to blame. It was time to set things straight. Boosting Michael on her hip she headed in the direction Logan had disappeared to.   
  
Logan was just about to hop on the bike when he heard footsteps behind him. He stiffened as a familiar scent filled his senses. "Whaddya want, Red?" he said softly as she approached, the baby clasped in her arms. "I'm on my way out."  
  
"I thought you might want to say "Happy Birthday" to your godson."  
  
Logan turned and glanced at the smiling baby in Jean's arms. His hair was a mess of blond curls, but his eyes were a deep, intense blue; eyes like his eyes. He reached out and mussed with the kid's hair, a smile forming on his face as Michael grinned at him. "Happy birthday, Michael," he whispered. "I hope it's a good one."  
  
"It is," Jean said gently. "Now that you're here. We've missed you."  
  
Logan sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "Not now, Jeannie," he whispered. "I don't want to do this now."  
  
She held out her hand. "Come with me."  
  
He stared at the outstretched hand in front of him, unsure if he wanted to take this step; he wasn't sure he wanted to risk his heart being ripped out again. He took her hand, his body relaxing as the softness of her skin met the roughness of his. They walked in silence, Michael's squirms and chattering the only noise breaking the quiet. Logan glanced up in surprise when they reached the boathouse sitting sullenly on the edge of the half-frozen lake. The boathouse had always been Jean and Scott's special place, the place they went to for a private tryst or a little time away from the chaos of the mansion. Now they were renovating it into a small cottage for themselves and the baby; as Jean had said, as much as she loved the mansion, they needed privacy for Michael. Rogue and Remy had already converted a large portion of the living area into a private apartment, so she and Scott had no choice but to move out.  
  
"Why are we here?" he asked angrily. The boathouse, with all the memories it held for Jean and Scott, was the last place he wanted to be.  
  
"To talk," Jean answered. "It's time we work things through."  
  
"There's nothing left to work through. We're done, Red, remember?"  
  
She sighed. "We're never going to be through." She laid a hand on his arm, her finger curving around the tightness of his biceps. "Please, Logan? I just want to talk to you."  
  
Shrugging off her hand, he reluctantly agreed. "Okay. We can talk."  
  
"Thank you." She pulled out a key and opened the door, Logan following behind with Michael. The inside of the boathouse was surprisingly cozy, decorated with oversized chairs and sofas and rich, warm colors. Taking Michael from Logan's arms, she settled him down for a nap in one of the bedrooms, opening a psychic link between the two so she could monitor his sleep. She found Logan building a fire when she came back.  
  
"Thank you," she said again. "You don't have to do that."  
  
"I know you get chilly easily." Jean nodded in response and settled down on the sofa. Logan watched her warily as he dropped into an armchair opposite her. This wasn't going the way Jean had planned it. They were acting like complete strangers, not former lovers who shared a child.  
  
Logan broke the ice. "Whaddya wanna to talk to me about?"  
  
"I think you know."  
  
"Don't play games with me, Red. Get to the point."  
  
"Logan, what happened to us? Why are we this way?"  
  
"What way?"  
  
"Acting like strangers, not two people in love."  
  
"Don't say that." His voice was edgy with suppressed emotions: anger, rage, bitterness. . .  
  
"But that's what we are."  
  
He shot out of his seat and stalked to the window, bracing his weight on his forearms, which rested on the windowsill. "We're not in love, Red. Not anymore."  
  
Jean got up and stood behind him. His body stiffened at the close contact. "Why do you call me that, Logan?"  
  
"Call you what?" he asked tersely.  
  
"Red. Why don't you call me Jeannie anymore?"  
  
He turned and faced her. "Because I don't love you anymore."  
  
Her hand shot out so fast he didn't even have time to deflect the blow. But as much as the slap hurt, the pain in her eyes hurt him more. He couldn't risk letting her break his heart again; and the only way he knew to avoid pain was to inflict it. "You don't mean that. . ." she whispered.  
  
"Don't I?"  
  
"But I love you," she said huskily. "You know I love you."  
  
"Sometimes love isn't enough. You don't love me enough to want me, Jean. You just wanted sex."  
  
"That's not true. It was never about sex; it was about being with you. Don't you see that? I've always loved you. I've loved you since the day you roared into the mansion full of anger and bitterness over a forgotten past and hideous experiment. I loved you when you were nothing but an animal, and I love the man you've become even more."  
  
"You have a great way of showing it."  
  
"I'm sorry!" Jean screamed. "Is that what you want to hear from me? I admit it: I was wrong. I treated you horribly. I was mean and selfish; I shouldn't have kept Michael at such a distance from you. I should have acknowledged you as his father. I should have told Scott the truth! I. . ." She sank to her knees, tears rolling freely down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I was just trying to do what's right."  
  
Logan knelt down in front of her. He took her in his arms while the tears continued. "I'm so sorry, Logan," she continued brokenly. I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I made the right decision, that I could live with the choice I made. I thought I was doing the school a favor by keeping my personal problems to myself, by not letting my business interfere with that of the school. . . but I was wrong, so wrong. I hurt myself so much more in the process. This past year. . .it's been hell for me. Do you know how many times I wanted to touch you, to kiss you, but know I couldn't? How many times I wanted to say I love you?. . . Can. . .Can you forgive me? Can you forgive me for everything I've done to you? Please forgive me. I couldn't stand it if you hate me."  
  
Logan pulled her closer, murmuring soothing words. "Jeannie, why do you always have to do what's right? Didn't I teach you that you have to put yourself first sometimes?"  
  
"I wanted to. But if I told. . . I thought about how disappointed in me the Professor would be. I couldn't bare him to be disappointed in me. And then Scott. . .it would kill him if he found out the truth."  
  
Logan pulled away from her. "But it wouldn't kill me." It was more of a statement than a question.   
  
"No, not you. I knew you could live with whatever decision I made. You're so much stronger than him. . .than me. I'm weak, Logan. I'm not strong to stand up to Scott, to look him in the eye and tell him the truth. I'm not strong enough to do what's really right."  
  
"You are strong, Jeannie. You made a decision, a fucking hard decision, and you stuck by it. And it nearly killed you, but you kept your word. You're so much stronger than you think."  
  
She looked at him with tear-filled eyes. "You think? I want to be strong. I want to set a good example for Michael. I want him to grow up right. But what do I have to give him? A mother that forsakes her marriage vows, that hides his real father from him--."  
  
"You said I wasn't his father." Logan interrupted her, his voice a hoarse whisper.  
  
"I. . . I wasn't sure. I mean, he has those blond curls. I know genealogy. Dark hair is dominant; he should have been born with dark hair. . . but he has those eyes. Every time I look at him I see your eyes. . . so dark they're almost black, but when you look at them closely they're the purest blue. Scott couldn't produce those eyes."  
  
Logan sucked in a breath. He rose to his feet and went back to the window. "I've missed so much already. When he took his first steps, said his first word. . .Scott was there, not me."  
  
Jean brushed the remaining tears from her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his waist, resting against his strong back. "You don't know how sorry I am."  
  
"Saying you're sorry doesn't change that I wasn't there."  
  
Jean didn't disagree. "You know, his first word was Lo Lo. He was trying to say Logan."  
  
He turned to face her. "Really?"  
  
"I wouldn't lie about something like that." Her fingers reached out to brush his cheek, the stubble tickling her skin. He turned his face into the caress, kissing her palm. She sighed in response.   
  
"I want to be a part of his life, Jeannie. I want to be there for him."  
  
"I promise things will change," her response came out on a small moan as his lips traced their way down her arm, his tongue flickering over her wrist.   
  
"You gonna keep this promise?" the words were cold and clipped, but necessary.  
  
She framed his face in her hands and leaned into his embrace. "I promise. I promise on our love that things will be different. I want you to be a part of his life as much as you do."  
  
His head dipped and he kissed her, his tongue slowly twirling with hers. It had been so long, but nothing had changed: the excitement, the passion, the love was still there and just as strong. The kiss deepened and clothes began to disappear. He gently lay her down in front of the fireplace, his eyes brimming with love. It was different this time, just as amazing, but different. It was slower, more intimate; they weren't rushed like they usually were; there was no abandoned husband on the verge of walking in on them. Jean felt him enter her and let out a cry, her legs rising to wrap around his hips. It was mind-blowing, soul-shattering, completely unbelievable. Never, in all their years of dating and marriage, had Jean ever experienced something like this before. She began to convulse beneath him and he felt himself let go, plunging into her for a final time.  
  
Afterwards they lay in the each other's arms, the fire drying their damp skin. "I could stay like this forever," Jean whispered.  
  
Logan leaned down and brushed a red curl behind her ear. 'Cept you can't. Scott will be wonderin' why you left the party."  
  
"I told him I was taking Michael to spend a little time with his godfather. He knows we're missing."  
  
"I love you, Jean. I always have. I always will."  
  
She moved her head from where it was resting on his chest and raised herself over his body. "I love you too. Nothing will change that." She twisted the ring on her finger. "This means nothing. My love for you. . . it doesn't take a diamond to make it true. It's here where it counts," she added, crossing her hands over her heart. "It's here where I love you."  
  
"I--" Logan started, whatever he was saying interrupted by the baby's cries coming from the bedroom.  
  
Jean laughed and disentangled herself from Logan. "Hold that thought." She quickly pulled on her clothes and hurried into the opposite room to get Michael. Logan put on his own clothes and waited for Jean and Michael. A few minutes later she came back into the room, a well-awake Michael clasped in her arms. "Hey there sleepyhead," she said. "Say hi to Uncle Logan."  
  
"Hi, Lo Lo," Michael squeaked as he buried his head in his mother's neck.   
  
"He's a little shy sometimes," Jean explained.  
  
Logan frowned. "He shouldn't be shy with me. He should know who I am."  
  
Jean took his hand in hers and squeezed. "He will know," she promised. "Just give it time."  
  
He looked at her skeptically. "I promise. Remember? I'm going to make sure it happens this time," she added  
  
"It's hard trustin' you, Jeannie."  
  
"I'll teach you to trust me. I'll make you happy this time."  
  
He squeezed her hand back and led her towards the door. Outside it had stopped snowing and the landscape was a beautiful shade of pristine white. Michael turned in Jean's arms and smiled at Logan, a smile of such innocence and naiveté that it made Logan believe it would all be okay in the end. He never predicted how soon the end would come.  
  
~ * ~  
Review! Review! Review! I love hearing from you! Thanks!  



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